


Blankets

by judithandronicus



Series: Judith's Fluffy Kinktober 2020 [5]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff, Flufftober, Flufftober 2020, M/M, Pre-Slash, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-07
Updated: 2020-10-07
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:47:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26876926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/judithandronicus/pseuds/judithandronicus
Summary: Cas and Dean have to share a bed, and one of them is a blanket-hog.Flufftober prompt Day 7: "Stop hogging the blankets!"
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Series: Judith's Fluffy Kinktober 2020 [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1951795
Comments: 8
Kudos: 65
Collections: Flufftober2020





	Blankets

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ahurston](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ahurston/gifts).



> This ridiculous little fluff is for the lovely ahurston, who is a precious sweet word sorceress whom I love dearly.

“Stop hogging the blankets!” Dean blinked a few times as he became aware of the hoarse growl coming from somewhere to his left. He turned his head to see Cas pinning him in place with a thousand-yard stare. It was one of those head-tilty, squinty ones that made Dean _feel_ things, and that just wasn’t fair. Not with how the angel’s hair was all sleep-tousled, reminding Dean of that night so long ago, when Castiel—sex-mussed, holy tax accountant Angel of the Lord—walked into his life in a shower of fireworks and righteous…righteous _something._

And yeah, Dean had felt things that night, but they’d been low on the list of priorities. _Angels are real, Dean; good things do happen, Dean; God needs you, Dean._ God, he’d just spent forty years in Hell and still, when he looked back on that night, Dean can’t believe he was ever that naive.

Cas had done the squinty thing then, too. Somewhere between the fireworks and the stabbing. Dean was a bit fuzzy on the details.

Dean blinked again, his eyes drawn to the faint red creases running along Castiel’s face from where it had been pressed against his pillow. “Huh?” It was about all he could muster.

“I said _stop_ hogging the blankets, Dean.” Cas punctuated his words with a harsh tug on the scratchy, pilled-up blanket, and suddenly Dean’s bare legs were exposed to the dank chill of the motel room.

“Hey, now you’re hogging ‘em,” Dean complained. He pulled back, the movement sudden enough to catch Cas off-guard, and send him rolling into the center of the queen-sized mattress.

“If you weren’t so insistent on moving to the absolute edge of the bed, it wouldn’t be a problem.” Cas narrowed his eyes accusingly, and it made Dean flush.

“There are _rules,_ Cas. When two dudes are sharing a bed, there are friggin’ rules. _”_

Cas, Angelic Master of Sarcasm, just rolled his eyes.

And…honestly? Dean didn’t blame him; he knew he was being ridiculous. But it was only out of an abundance of caution, really. Because what if he happened to, y’know, accidentally cuddle Cas during the night? Accidental cuddling was likely to land him in awkward boner territory. Better to play it safe.

“You’re being ridiculous.” Another eye roll. And what was _that_ about? Was Cas in his head? No, idiot, Dean chastised himself, he’s just got eyes.

“Shut up.” _Yep, I’m a master debater,_ Dean thought. _Smooth._

“It’s late; it’s cold; and I’m tired, Dean,” Cas grumbled. “Just come here.” His voice carried a hint of “brook no dissent” smiteyness to it, and Dean knew it was a lost cause.

“Uh…um, okay.” He slowly moved toward the center of the bed, a satisfied sigh escaping his mouth unbidden when he was snug in the warm cocoon of the scratchy blanket and over-bleached sheets.

“Now turn over,” smitey, grumpy Cas demanded, and Dean obeyed. He turned toward his side of the bed and scooted until he felt Castiel’s chest flush against his back, a strong arm slung carelessly over his waist. Okay, this was better.

Dean let himself get lost in the comfort of the moment, in the feel of Castiel’s breath, soft and warm against the back of his neck. He could let himself have this just once, he rationalized, as he felt himself plunging into sleep.

“G’night, Cas,” he whispered, and then he was out like a light.


End file.
